


Straight From Your Heart

by Victorious56



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Post-Canon, Rated for swearing, follows on from Vol7, mentions of trauma, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24980347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorious56/pseuds/Victorious56
Summary: Following the catastrophic fight on the tundra, Qrow and Clover try and come to terms with what happened.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

After three weeks looking at the same slate-grey walls, Qrow wondered why he wasn't tired of the sight. As a bird, with the freedom of the skies, the world beneath him was an unfolding patchwork of ever-changing colours and textures. Why did he not miss that now? Why did he not care?

He knew the answer to these questions, and the pain of the acknowledgement was a just punishment.

Clover was dead. Qrow could have prevented it. So he was responsible. Simple.

Staring at the featureless wall meant he did not have to face the visions in his head. The white, the red. So much red.

Now there was only grey, and Qrow was glad. Grey was all he wanted, and all he deserved.

He did not know what had happened after his arrest. He did not ask, and was not told. There had been no visitors, no official interview. Robyn had been alongside him only briefly, before she was removed to who knows where. Food three times a day, one hour's exercise in an enclosed yard, and silence. He lived in his head, and every moment there was a torment.

❖

Today a different guard brought his meal tray. He placed it on the shelf which protruded beyond the door on the cell side, and waited for Qrow to take it. As he approached the door, the guard tapped on the tray, indicating a folded piece of paper. His eyes met Qrow's briefly. Qrow took the tray, and the delivery slot clicked shut.

He put the tray on the small table, turning to cross to the opposite wall. He looked at the tray, looked at the paper. It was the first suggestion of contact since his incarceration, and he was scared to read it. He was satisfied in his grey cocoon, he didn't want to know about anything else— didn't want to face what had happened. He didn't want to have to admit that Clover was... no longer here.

Stupid, really. They'd only known each other a few weeks, no time at all. Not enough time to form any sort of bond, to have enjoyed each other's company, to have wondered whether maybe...

Qrow jerked his head back, hitting the wall behind him several times. No point going over all that again. The constant ache within his chest had become his new normal, and dwelling on possibilities which would never be anything more, threatened to break his heart. But how could you break something which was already shattered?

His lips pinched, he drew in a sharp breath and stepped forward to pick up the slip of paper. Plain white, from a small notepad. Folded in half, the faint lines of writing showing through. Was it from Ruby, or Yang? He had no idea if they were still in Atlas, no knowledge that they were safe. He had nothing.

He had a piece of paper. Unfolding it, he stared at the blue ink of the writing, a style he did not recognise. It was untidy, as if written in a hurry, or with an unpracticed hand. He scanned it without seeing the words, looking to the bottom of the sheet. There was no name written there. Simply a strange symbol of four almost circular shapes, with a small line sticking out at the bottom.

Qrow looked at the palm of his hand, the marks from the cloverleaf pin long faded. He remembered the pain as the pin pressed into his flesh, drawing new blood to mingle with the old, which had dried onto the surface and dulled its sheen. Negated the luck it should have brought. His eye went back to the symbol at the bottom of the note.

Dropping the sheet of paper, he ran to the sink in the corner of his cell, and vomited into it. When there was nothing left, when his stomach was as empty as it could be, he slowly straightened up. After rinsing his mouth and washing his face, he turned and gazed at the note on the floor.

 _Is this some kind of cruel joke? A test? A psychological procedure?_ Qrow didn't know what it was, though he knew what it wasn't. It _couldn't_ be a message from a dead man.

He crouched down and touched the paper, his fingers trembling. _Why would anyone do this?_ He unfolded it again, and read the few sentences which were written there.

  


_This is me. I didn't die. I've been in the ICU ever since... only just came round yesterday. They won't let me see you. Leven, who gave you this, will take a reply. I've known him forever._

  


And that was it. The small symbol, traced in wavering lines at the bottom, served as a signature.

Qrow folded the sheet into a smaller square and put it into his pocket. He glanced up at the corner of the ceiling, where the camera angled down into the room. This had to be kept secret... unless it was a test... and they were trying to trick him...

Rising to his feet, he looked at the food on the tray. His appetite had been almost non-existent since his arrest, but as usual he sat down and mechanically forked up the food. It was as tasteless as usual. He slid a hand into his pocket, fingers rubbing the edges of the folded note. If this was genuine... maybe there was a reason to eat, after all.

❖

The guard came to collect the tray a while later. It was the same man as before. Qrow faced him as he withdrew the tray.

"I don't have anything to write with."

Silently, a stub of pencil was passed through the slot in the door. Qrow took it, acknowledging it with a small nod. The slot was closed, and Qrow listened to the footsteps as they receded down the hallway outside.

He sat in the corner of the cell, beneath the camera. Carefully unfolding the note, he read the words again. And again. Part of him was certain this was some kind of trap. Part of him wondered if he was hallucinating. The tiniest part of him was holding fast to the merest ember, the minutest seed, of hope. Qrow folded the paper and pressed it against his knee, took the pencil, and tried to think of the words. Words which he had played through in his head, so many times, when he had allowed himself to imagine Clover was beside him, not lying in the snow, so cold...

Qrow shook his head, trying to marshall his thoughts. Finally, he carefully wrote a few sentences in the neatest writing he could manage. He folded the sheet of paper and tucked it into his pocket, wishing it could be tomorrow, so he could pass it to Leven.


	2. Chapter 2

The following day Qrow woke at an earlier hour than of late. He had found it difficult to get to sleep, as thoughts chased around his head, allowing him no peace. They were not the thoughts he'd been having since his imprisonment. These were hopeful thoughts, which he tried hard to suppress. He still believed this was part of some plan to punish him, to play with his raw emotions. To hurt him, as he had hurt Clover.

Clover. Qrow's mouth spoke the name silently. There was so much he should have said to the man before... the tundra. So many words which had not been allowed out into the open, which had been so well-hidden. _Even from me_. Qrow had refused to acknowledge his growing regard for Clover. He had held it down, kept it in a dark corner of himself, instead of allowing it out into the light. It could have grown, flourished, maybe even been reciprocated. If only there had been more time.

Time had been snatched away from them in a frenzied few minutes of fighting. A stupid, stupid, fight which should never have happened. Qrow could still not make sense of what had taken place. The only important part was the ending. The ending of Clover's life, and of any hopes Qrow may have been nurturing, albeit subconsciously, of something more than friendship.

But now... his hand clutched at the small fold of paper in his pocket. How could a lifeline be so insignificant?

There was a rattle at the door, jolting Qrow out of his thoughts, and his bed. It was not Leven with the breakfast tray. Qrow took the meal, gripping the tray to steady his trembling fingers. Of course, Leven would be on the late shift, and would bring his evening meal.

The hours of the day passed more slowly than Qrow could have ever thought possible. When there was a noise at the door, signalling his final meal of the day, it was all Qrow could do to stop himself shouting with relief.

This time it was Leven's lined features which Qrow could see through the slot. He took the tray, placing the folded piece of paper on the shelf in its place. The slightest of nods from the guard, a swift movement of his hand, and the note was gone. He nodded to Leven in return, and took the tray to the table.

Sitting down before the food, Qrow felt a fluttering in his stomach. After a few deep breaths, he started to eat. It would be a long twenty-four hours before he saw Leven again.

❖

In the bright white cleanliness of his room, Clover tried to push himself into a seated position. It took several minutes, and finally he was more upright, and able to see through the window. His room must have been on one of the higher floors of the medical wing, as all he could see was the sky. At the moment it was a uniform grey, the light slowly fading as the evening drew in.

A soft tap at the door indicated a visitor. Clover was glad to see anyone— he still didn't know what exactly had happened to him, and the medical staff would give him few details. This was to help him remain calm, or so he had been told. The lack of information made him more anxious, but his questions were turned away with the repeated refrain of _When you are stronger..._

Leven entered. "Howdy, Captain. How are you this evening?"

"Bored out of my skull, if you must know. But, Leven, did you... did he—?"

"He did, sir. Here we are." The guard held out the piece of paper, now looking very crumpled after spending so long in Qrow's pocket. Clover reached for it, taking it carefully as though it were a fragile thing.

"How... how is he?"

Leven coughed. "Well, truth be told I haven't seen that much of him. And I didn't know him before, so... he looks like a ghost, if I'm honest, Captain. Like a man who is afraid of himself."

Clover's lips set in a thin line. "That won't do... but I can't do anything from here." He examined the folded note in his hand. "Can you call in tomorrow, before your shift? I may have a reply to this note, maybe..."

"Of course, sir. I'll see you tomorrow." Leven turned towards the door. "Oh, and I should say, even though the... prisoner doesn't look well, he _did_ seem pleased to see me this evening, and was keen to return the note."

"Thank you, Leven."

The older man gave Clover a half-salute and left the room, closing the door gently as he went.

The room was silent, except for the faint hum of the medical machinery on either side of Clover's bed. He gently unfolded the note, trying to smooth the creases as he did so. One side had only what Clover himself had previously written; he turned the sheet over and peered at it.

Initially he could not see any writing at all, then he realised it was written with a very faint pencil. Grunting a little, he raised his knees and held the paper against them.

  


_I'm sorry, so so sorry. I was a dick and you were a dick and we fucked up and I'm so sorry. If you can't bear the thought of seeing me, that's okay. I'm so sorry._

  


There was an odd shape at the bottom of the paper. Clover looked at it from several angles, before righting the paper and realising what it was. What it was meant to be.

A small bird.

The note crumpled in Clover's fist as he pressed a clenched hand to his mouth, tears trickling down his cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3

Qrow waited anxiously throughout the following day, the hours passing with excruciating slowness. Before, the days had merged into a hazy, continuous stream, and he hadn't cared what the hour was. Today was different, now there was something to wait for, even look forward to.

When Leven brought his evening meal Qrow ignored the food, seeing only the folded paper on the tray. As he slowly slid it from the shelf, he whispered, "How... how is he?"

Leven glanced in either direction, before leaning towards the opening. "As well as you'd hope. Better for getting your note." He stood back, covering the slot slowly. Qrow saw him smile briefly, before his face disappeared behind the closed panel.

Qrow sat at the table, positioning the chair so his back was to the camera. He unfolded the note, recognising the blue writing which he hadn't seen before yesterday. Some of the words were smudged, as if the paper had got wet at some point.

_We did indeed fuck up. Of course I want to see you, you idiot. I can't yet though. Leven will take notes for now. If you want to. And I'm the one to say sorry, I screwed up ~~when the General~~ on the tundra. Should never have tried to arrest you. Stupid idiot. Me, I mean. Look, it's not right you're stuck there, and I'll see if I can do anything about it. Confined to bed atm. So very sorry for everything._

And there was the squiggly four-leaf clover at the end of the note.

Qrow smiled. It had been so long, his face felt stiff, the smile unnatural. But he continued to smile as he read the note several more times. He could hear Clover's voice speaking the sentences, see his mouth forming the words.

Then the other sounds and images overtook him, and he was kneeling in the snow, and it was so cold...

By the time his tears had dried, the food on the tray was barely warm. Qrow ate it anyway, staring at the words on the paper, each mouthful tasteless, every word a gentle, calming touch.

❖

And so it continued. Leven was glad to act as go-between; he was sure Clover's steady recovery was helped by Qrow's notes.

_I do want to see you, why wouldn't I? Still can't quite believe ~~you aren't~~ you're alive. Yeah you were stupid, but I was stupider too and that fucker Callows didn't help. What's your prognosis? Be a while before you're out of bed I guess... Do you know what happened to R and Y and the others? I've heard nothing..._

Can we just blame Callows and stop trying to out-stupid each other? They've got me out of bed but I can't walk yet. There's a lot of work to do, but I might get a gravity chair soon to get around. As far as I know the others have all left, not totally sure what happened but there was a battle, the enemy took damage and retreated. Chaos everywhere. I'm still trying to find out why you're locked up. Keep your chin up, won't you?

_I'll happily blame Callows for everything and he'd better watch his tail cos when I get out of here that fucker is dead. So, are Atlas and Mantle safe for now? No-one comes down here, just the guards, and there's no speaking to them. Except for Leven but he doesn't want to push his luck. You just need to concentrate on healing, don't worry about me._

But I do worry, it must be driving you mad locked up. I still haven't found out why, I can't ask too many questions. But I will get it sorted. And yeah, things are safe, for now. I'm having another operation tomorrow so might be out of it for a few days.... I will get out of this room if it's the last thing I do.

_Okay, I'll reply even though you won't see this straight away. Don't worry about me, you complete idiot. Just get yourself better. When I see you I don't want you looking like some shadow of what you were. I'm banking on the flirting and the winks, it's all that's keeping me alive atm. Just get better, that's all._

Gods, it's been a whole week, I'm so sorry. Recovery from the op was slow, but it's going well now. I've begun physio, not much but it's a start. Definitely don't want to waste away. There's only room for one scrawny guy in this relationship, you know. I will see you soon, even if it means crawling the whole way.

_Hold on, relationship? Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren't we? Then again... There is absolutely nothing to report from here, I'm so bored I've even tried meditation. That's how desperate I am._

Sorry if I assumed too much before, it just feels like... I should be getting a gravity chair next week so I'll be able to leave this sodding room. I'll try and come down as soon as I can. It's been so long... how can one miserable git get under a person's skin? Rhetorical question... don't drive yourself mad before I get a chance to see you again. It won't be long...

_You're right, it does feel like... something, don't know what. Wait, are you calling me scrawny? That's cheap, you know. I'm spending all my exercise time on the equipment now. We'll see who's scrawny. And yeah, maybe I miss you too. Just a bit._

I'm out of bed! Not actually dressed or anything, but they helped me walk to the chair and I'm sitting by the window. Finally can see something other than sky. Won't be going outside for a while though. Like you... I'm still trying to find out what's going on, I've called Winter but she's not answering. Think she might be avoiding me... Pietro is bringing a chair for me to try tomorrow, it's a new design so they need to test it. Wish me luck.

_Oh gods, did you have to say that? Where was your luck when you needed it? Wiped out by me and my bad luck. Maybe you shouldn't come down here. It might cause a relapse. This was never a good idea. Just get better._

Look, that was a stupid thing to write, I wasn't thinking. Stuck in here is not doing me any good. I need to see you, I want to... unless you really don't, then that's that I guess.

Please reply, I get my chair properly tomorrow and I want to try it out. But I'm not coming down unless I know you want me to. Please, just let me know.

_Damn you, of course I want you to. But I've given you enough trouble already, and I'm scared. I want to see you but... gods, I don't know. Come if you want._


	4. Chapter 4

It had been three days since Qrow had written his last note, and Clover had sent no reply. Now there was a guard change, and Leven was no longer on duty. Qrow was still eating, and trying to improve his strength with workouts in the gym area, but... _What's the point? He won't come, the kids have gone..._

A rattle at the door was followed by a terse voice. "Visitor!"

Qrow pushed himself from the bed, facing the door in trepidation. He wanted this, yet dreaded it. The roiling in his stomach would not be stilled, as Clover entered the cell. The chair he was in hovered a few inches off the floor, Clover's hands touching the control pads on the arms, a look of intense concentration on his face. The guard pulled the door closed, the chair settled down with a slight bump, and its occupant looked up.

Clover's face, thinner and paler than Qrow remembered, bore a wary expression. His mouth was set, his eyebrows raised slightly as he gazed at Qrow silently.

Qrow sat back on the bed with a thump. He pressed his trembling hands between his knees, staring at the floor, unwilling to face the look of hope in Clover's eyes.

"Qrow?" Clover's voice was husky, his tone hesitant.

Qrow finally raised his eyes. "What have I done to you?"

"Don't start, Qrow. It was that bastard Callows. And the combined stupidity of any number of people, you and me included. We have to start from that point, otherwise—"

"I don't know if I can. I see you every time, on the snow..."

Clover muttered something, before nudging the chair forward. It bumped Qrow's leg, trapping it against the edge of the bed.

"Ow, you idiot, what are you doing?" Qrow pulled his leg away, rubbing the shin.

"Shit, sorry, I haven't quite mastered it yet."

"Maybe you should practice with it a bit more, before trying to go anywhere." Qrow's tone was grumpy as he continued to nurse his leg.

"Gods, you haven't changed, have you?" Clover looked at the older man, fondness and exasperation taking turns to pass across his face.

"Maybe not. You have, though." Qrow waved a hand, taking in Clover's situation.

"This can all be sorted, with time. I've got some implants helping me right now, but they should come out eventually. And with physiotherapy, and training... I'll be good as new."

Qrow stared at him, eyes wide. "Clover, you _died_." He looked away, his lower lip trembling. "I saw it, I saw you..." Qrow rubbed his face, his voice tapering off and leaving a heavy silence in the room.

"Qrow, come closer. I think I've got this damn chair stuck."

Qrow edged along the bed, until he was close enough for Clover to reach out and take his hand. He looked tentatively into the other man's eyes.

"Right, three things." Clover's voice was firmer now, sounding more like a senior officer delivering a briefing talk. Qrow allowed himself the merest whisper of a smile.

"One, stop being a daft bugger. Two, I will see someone as soon as I leave this room, to get you moved to a better location, and also to start trauma counselling. Don't give me that look. You know it'll be for your own good." He looked into Qrow's eyes. "And three, if it's alright with you, I'd like to kiss you now."

"I—" Qrow's mouth dried up, and he licked his lips with a tongue that suddenly felt twice as large as it should. "You certain you want to do this?"

"Oh, I think it might be worth the risk." Clover smiled, his eyes crinkling in the way Qrow remembered.

_It's going to be alright._

He leaned forward, the position made awkward by the chair. "Stupid chair."

"Don't insult my chair, it got me down here."

"Just about." Qrow couldn't resist a smirk.

"Come over here, you." Clover patted his lap.

"Won't I squash you?"

"I'm not as decrepit as you seem to think. Just don't lean against my chest."

Qrow recoiled at that, the images sliding unbidden into his thoughts. Clover saw the shadow pass across his face.

"Qrow, we can't avoid using the word _chest_ forever. Just be gentle with me."

"Whatever you say, soldier-boy. You're in charge."

Clover shook his head as he regarded Qrow's smirk. "I'm not so sure."

Qrow looked at the man in the chair. At his remarkably neat hair, his smiling green eyes, his mouth with that stupid, slightly lop-sided grin... He carefully sat in Clover's lap, wishing he could gather him close, knowing that would have to wait. For now.

Clover held Qrow's face gingerly, reaching up for the most chaste of kisses. Qrow's fingers brushed his hair, as their lips pressed together more firmly.

It would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly comments always appreciated, thank you.
> 
> The title for this comes from the lyrics of the song [Love Letters](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b00bRYZSRew) by Ketty Lester. Yes, the notes weren't your typical love letters but... we can stretch a point for this beautiful song.
> 
> And many thanks to [Sica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamoiselle_sica/pseuds/madamoiselle_sica) for beta-reading this for me, and convincing me that Clover really _wouldn't_ swear that much 😄


End file.
